


Call of the Wild

by Metal_Chocobo



Category: Hockey RPF, Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2014 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Los Angeles Kings, Minnesota Wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Chocobo/pseuds/Metal_Chocobo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noora assumed it was an elaborate 25th birthday prank when she got the call up from the Minnesota Wild during their best playoffs run ever. It wasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call of the Wild

**Author's Note:**

> This would never have been finished on time, Noora Räty's actual 25th birthday, if it wasn't for the wonderful Stellarer who tirelessly betaed this fic. Thank you.

Noora peered into the kitchen to see if she could sneak in undetected. Mira was digging in the refrigerator and had left the target unguarded. Noora grinned as she leaped over the squeaky floorboard to land next to the counter. She peered into the light blue mixing bowl to make certain it was what she wanted. The last time she had attempted to pilfer from Mira she had raided a booby-trapped bowl and accidently got a mouthful of horseradish mixed with BBQ and hot sauce. Noora had been expecting raw cookie dough. No one ever said the goalie didn’t learn her lesson.

Success! The bowl was filled with a medium brown liquid that looked ready to solidify. It looked like chocolate cake batter, but Noora was still wary. She stuck a finger in the mix and pulled out a glob. After a sniff, which only smelled like chocolate, Noora stuck it in her mouth. The chocolate immediately hit all of the goalie’s senses. Noora let out an involuntary moan. Mira was an absurdly good cook.

Unfortunately Noora’s moan alerted Mira to her presence. She was over in a flash, swiping the mixing bowl before Noora could steal any more batter. Noora protested and reached for the bowl, but Mira just held it out of Noora’s reach. It was times like these that Noora cursed the eight inches the taller Finn had on her. She couldn’t even touch the bowl. So instead Noora just wrapped her arms around Mira and leaned her head against her as she whined. Mira stood firm as she continued to ignore the shorter Finn. She carefully stirred the bowl’s contents as she balanced it against the top of her chest, still out of Noora’s reach.

“I want chocolate,” Noora whined into Mira’s side.

“If you eat all the batter you won’t have a birthday cake tonight,” Mira said.

“You could make more batter a little later,” Noora suggested.

“I am not feeding you two chocolate cakes. You’ll get fat.”

“If it was due to your cooking it would be worth it,” Noora sighed. “You’re the best chef I know.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Mira said. Her shoulders relaxed and the mixing bowl slipped down a couple of inches on her chest. Noora stared, but ultimately decided it was still too high for her to sneak another taste. At least, not unless she wanted to knock the contents onto the floor and Noora knew if she did that Mira definitely wouldn’t bake her another cake.

“I’m looking forward to celebrating with you,” Noora said. “Just the two of us eating your nice chocolate cake together.”

“After we have dinner,” Mira said firmly. “I have lamb marinating in the fridge. I need to get it in the oven as soon as this cake gets out if we want to eat dinner before your birthday is over. We are watching the game tonight, right?”

“Mmm hmm,” Noora intoned. She let go of Mira and poured herself a glass of milk. “Game six against the Kings. So far the Wild certainly haven’t made things easy on themselves. If they want to make it out of this round this will be their third set of seven games in a row.”

“Should be fun to watch though. Do we have enough beer for tonight? I know we don’t for your party on Saturday.”

“I was gonna run to the store this afternoon and get enough for both. Have you seen my phone?”

“It’s on the charger between the microwave and the breadbox,” Mira said, pointing. “There was a call while you were in the bathroom.”

“Oh, what did they say?” Noora asked, grabbing her phone.

“I don’t know. Do you expect me to be your personal chef _and_ your secretary?” Mira asked. Now that Noora’s hands were occupied she felt it was safe to put the cake batter down again.

“Yes,” Noora said with a grin. For that cheek Mira bopped the birthday girl on the nose with the mixing spoon. Noora continued to smile as she accessed her voice mail. She wiped the batter off her nose with a finger then sucked on it. The chocolate was so tasty.

The phone said there was one unheard message. Noora clicked to listen. A man introduced himself as Chuck Fletcher, the general manager for the Minnesota Wild, and requested that she call him back immediately. He left her the main office number and told her to ask to be transferred to him. Fletcher didn’t explain why he was calling her, but if it was Fletcher—and that’s a big if; more likely Amanda or one of the other gophers had gotten a friend to prank call her on her birthday—then there was only one reason he was calling. The Wild’s goalie problems were too well known for Noora to not risk taking the bait if this was a prank. The chance was too good to pass up on if it was real.

“Who was that?” Mira asked.

“Probably a prank, bit I still want to follow up on it,” Noora said. She punched in the number for the Wild’s home office after looking it up herself. “On the off chance that it’s not.” She smiled at the taller girl.

As soon as the line connected to the head office and Noora told the secretary who she was the secretary immediately transferred her to Fletcher’s office. She didn’t even have to ask for him. Fletcher was warm and nearly immediate in answering his phone.

“Ah, Noora Räty,” Fletcher greeted her. He pronounced her surname correctly. “I’m glad you called back so quickly.”

“May I inquire as to what this is about?” Noora asked.

“I need you on the Wild’s bench backing Bryzgalov tonight,” Fletcher said. He actually said it. He had just offered Noora something she wanted more than anything else in the world. “So will you back up Bryz?”

“What about Kuemps?” Noora asked. Darcy Kuemper had been the Wild’s goalie since Harding and Bäckström, the Wild’s original team goalies, were hurt. 

“I already added enough milk to the cake,” Mira said. “Unless you want me to turn this into a milk chocolate cake?” Noora shook her head. Mira’s cake recipe was fine. The taller woman fetched a cake pan from the cupboard and poured the batter into it.

“Kuemper is still day to day,” Fletcher said. He had been hurt during the last game of round one against the Colorado Avalanche. It surprised Noora he wasn’t better yet as Kuemper had been participating again since the late Blackhawks games. “Today is a bad day. He took a few bad hits in the last game while Bryz had some equipment issues.”

“And Curry?” Noora asked, refusing to let the hope into her voice. John Curry had been added to the roster along with Bryzgalov to assist Kuemper in goal.

Mira’s head jerked up in disgust. “I am not putting curry in this cake. That would be terrible,” she said. Noora rolled her eyes and reached out to squeeze Mira’s hand. Of course she didn’t want curry in her cake. Mira was so silly sometimes.

“He pulled a Bäckström in practice about an hour ago,” Fletcher said. Last year at the beginning of the playoffs Bäckström pulled a muscle in his groin during warm ups and hadn’t been the same since. “We need you, Noora. You’re the only goalie left I would trust on the ice if something happened to Bryz. Will you do it?”

“Yes,” Noora said. She didn’t know what the contract details were, but she would get paid to play hockey. That was almost more exciting than this being her chance to play in the NHL, her chance to play for the Minnesota Wild. Even if she never left the bench this was something Noora had dreamed of. There was no other answer than yes.

“Great, my office is at 317 Washington Street, the back side of the Xcel Energy Center’s block. Come down, get your contract sorted out, and we’ll get you skating with the team.”

“I can be there in an hour with my gear,” Noora said. Then she hung up the phone. Mira looked at her interestedly. That was when the goalie realized she had a huge grin on her face.

“Good news?” Mira asked.

“Stop making dinner. And the cake too,” Noora said. “I’m not going to be home tonight.” Mira’s smile evaporated and her brow furrowed.

“Why not?” Mira demanded. “I’ve been working on dinner for the last two hours. What could be more important than spending your birthday with me?”

“I’m going to be the Wild’s back up goalie tonight,” Noora said.

“The Minnesota Wild?” Mira asked.

Noora nodded gleefully. Now that it was really hitting her she was too excited to speak. She, Noora Räty, was the Minnesota Wild’s back up goalie. In a playoffs game no less. With a shriek Mira flung her arms around Noora and pulled her into a hug that swept the shorter woman off her feet. For a minute they stood there laughing and crying with their arms around each other and their foreheads pressed together. Then Noora patted Mira on the shoulder and asked to be put down. She had to meet Fletcher in less than an hour and Noora had to fetch her gear. In a panic Noora realized she couldn’t remember where she had stashed her official to-go bag after the Olympics. Luckily Noora had Mira. The tall Finn quickly packed all the food she had been preparing into the fridge and told the goalie exactly where she could find her things. Within minutes Noora had everything she needed in her bags, helmet in hand, and Mira behind the wheel.

She dropped Noora off in front of the Wild’s management office with the promise to come meet her there as soon as she finished parking. Noora had passed by the offices before and always just assumed it was a hotel or clubhouse with a hockey theme. She only made the hockey connection because the red and white stone building flew five flags above its doors: the NHL and Minnesota Wild flags along with the US, Canadian, and Minnesota state flags. Noora pulled open one of the wooden doors and walked inside. To her surprise Fletcher was waiting in the lobby for her. He quickly guided her to his office and handed Noora a contract. It was obvious he wanted to get Noora on the ice with the team as soon as possible. That’s what she wanted too.

“Go ahead and read it, but it’s a standard professional tryout contract for a single game. Just like we gave Rob Laurie earlier this year, you’ll get $500 and you can keep your game worn jersey,” Fletcher said. “We’ll be playing in our green sweaters tonight.”

“Oh, I much prefer those to the red,” Noora said.

She read through the contract and everything was pretty much straightforward. She had seen similar ones with her agent before. Near the bottom it discussed what would happen if she did actually play and it essentially boiled down to her receiving a lot more money. She was okay with this contract.

“Everything look in order?” Fletcher asked.

“Yes, but I wish I had a Wild hat for the bench,” Noora said. “I might look a bit odd in my Gophers cap.”

“I think we can find a Wild hat you can keep,” Fletcher laughed. “It’s the playoffs after all.”

Noora quickly skimmed the contract one last time before signing. Fletcher breathed a sigh of relief. He took back the contract, quickly scanned it and printed a copy for Noora’s records before shooting an email attachment to her agent in Finland. Then he stood up and offered to lead Noora over to the Xcel center to join the team for the last of their morning skate. She had been in his office for less than ten minutes.

“So where’s your gear?” Fletcher asked.

“Mira has it. I doubt she has found parking yet,” Noora said, causing Fletcher to chuckle. She stopped and suddenly turned to the general manager. “Is there any way you can get Mira a seat for the game?”

“Noora, I’m sorry,” Fletcher said apologetically. “But that’s not something I can manage.”

“I want her at this game,” Noora said. “I need her to see me in my first NHL game.” The obvious ‘it’s important’ didn’t need to be said. Of course it was important. Not only was this Noora’s first NHL game, it was a playoffs game. No woman had ever played in an NHL playoffs game and even if she was stuck on the bench the whole time Noora was making history. She needed Mira to see her do it.

“You’ve already signed your contract and even if you hadn’t I can’t authorize that sort of expense, not for a tryout contract, even if it is the playoffs. A backup goaltender for a single game is worth a set amount and you’re already getting it. I could throw in a hat, but I couldn’t throw in a game ticket,” Fletcher said. “If you had pressed the issue, Noora, turned it into a breaking point for the contract, I would have had to call Rumpel from the Badgers and see if he was interested. I’m sorry, I completely understand why you need her to see you play.”

“Damn,” Noora sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Hey, I’m certain the box office has a few single tickets left and even with the expense you’ll be making a profit tonight,” Fletcher said.

“Perhaps,” Noora said. She and Mira had tried to buy tickets the moment they found out there would be a game on her birthday for sure, but by the time they went to buy them there weren’t any pairs of tickets left. Noora doubted Mira would be able to get even a single ticket without resorting to a scalper and Mira had always been terrible dealing with that sort of person.

They exited the Wild’s management offices and took a right toward West Kellogg. Noora looked around, hoping to spot Mira before they reached the Xcel Center. It was true she needed to get her gear, but she also had to explain the ticket situation. To Noora’s surprise and delight she spotted Mira across the street in front of the Science Museum of Minnesota. She looked a bit like a pack mule carrying all of Noora’s things. Even if she had bad news, the goalie’s spirits lifted upon spotting her favorite defense player in the whole world. She waved to get Mira’s attention.

“Do I at least get to play with my number?” Noora asked.

“Yes, no one’s worn it since Ortmeyer in 2012,” Fletcher said, jovial again. “You took that number in Minnesota and you’ll continue to play in Minnesota with it. Someone is stitching Räty 41 onto a jersey right now and I can promise you it will have the umlaut.”

“Good,” Noora said with a smile as Mira reached them and dumped the heaviest bag into her arms. “Proper spelling is important. The little details matter.”

If the little details mattered then the big ones especially did. Mira needing a place to watch the games was not a little detail and Noora prepared to join the skate with this worry overhead.

It didn’t really hit her until she picked up the practice jersey that Noora was suiting up to practice with the Minnesota Wild. She was familiar with the team and they with her, especially the Finns and the goalies, but this was the first time she was one of them. Noora was filled with excitement as she stepped onto the ice. Yeo paused practice to introduce her to the team, even though Noora knew everyone on the team better than she did the head coach, and then practice started.

It had been just over three months since Noora had last played in a serious game and announced her retirement. While she had since signed with a Finnish men’s team there were still months before she had to prepare to play and she was very much in her off-season. Noora was grateful her job had kept her on the ice, though her role was as a goalie coach for children. She was also lucky she lived near her old university team and had a strong work ethic because that was the only reason Noora had kept up with at least some of her practice after the Olympics. If she hadn’t been doing the bare minimum she would have been woefully behind all the others at practice.

At it was it took far longer than Noora liked for her ice sense to reassert itself. She wasn’t quite as flexible in her stretches as she should have been, but at least she was still better than Bryzgalov on that front. Then again Bryzgalov was a lot older in hockey years so that was a small comfort.

When they first put Noora in net that afternoon she missed almost half the pucks shot at her. It wasn’t that these were particularly difficult shots, just a bit stronger than usual, but far more easily telegraphed puck movement. The Wild’s rebound ability was nothing compared to any woman’s team Noora had faced in the last year and Hilary Knight was a more powerful shot than half the team. The problem was Noora’s body wasn’t moving fast enough. She was out of shape. She could feel the team’s worry. Noora didn’t let it affect her. She knew she would improve the longer she was on the ice, but only if she ignored outside influences. Noora didn’t need anyone else’s uncertainties.

For the rest of the time the team was on the ice Noora was in the net blocking shots. Normally only the starting goalie was put in the crease to actively take shots during morning skate, but Bryzgalov had already taken quite a few by the time Noora arrived. Yeo had Noora do the same not only to get her up to speed, but also to have the team get a sense of the goalie’s playing style. The team always played its worst in front of an unfamiliar goaltender and unfortunately they had more than enough experience with that.

Noora knew her body was beginning to react the way she wanted it to when she was able to block Koivu’s signature shootout shot. With that in mind she made saves she had been routinely missing not twenty minutes ago. By the time the others left the ice, Noora could feel that their confidence in her had grown. That was a good feeling. Her time with the trainer was an exercise in muscle memory. He made straightforward simple shots at her in rapid succession in an attempt to make her reflexively catch pucks the way he knew Noora could. It worked. Soon Noora noticed a semicircle of spent pucks in front of her as she shook a handful of pucks out of her glove. There were less pucks in the net than had been in her glove. Noora spent about an hour on the ice, first with the team and then with a trainer after the others finished their morning skate. By the time she got off the ice Noora was stopping about 80% of the shots, which was well below her usual save percentage, but acceptable considering her time away and the fact she was the back up goalie. Besides, it wasn’t like she was actually going to play, even if it was what she wanted more than anything else in the world. It was the playoffs and they were in an elimination game.

Noora made it into the locker room about the time the rest of the team had finished showering and changing. Koivu came over to talk to her as she took off her gear. Mikko Koivu was not only captain of the Wild; he was also the active player Noora knew best. Koivu was Finnish, and while Granlund and Haula were both closer to her in age they hadn’t been to two, almost three, Olympics and countless other national events with her. Noora liked and respected Koivu as both a person and player. She knew the feeling was mutual. She also knew Koivu took his role as captain seriously, which is why she wasn’t surprised he was checking in on her.

“You played well today,” Koivu said. He stuck to English because they were in a locker room with non-Finnish speakers. Noora grunted in response.

“I assume you mean after I remembered what to do on the ice,” Noora said. She pulled off her shoulder pads to reveal a sweat soaked T-shirt as Koivu chuckled. “I am rustier than I had realized.”

“Under the rust is sharp steel,” Koivu said. “I am more worried that you did not appear happy when you stepped onto the ice.”

“Today is one of the happiest days of my life,” Noora said. “I get to be on the Wild.”

“But…” Koivu prompted. He wasn’t letting it go.

“Mira doesn't have a ticket for the game. She checked with box office during our skate, but they are sold out,” Noora said. She had read the text after getting back to the locker room. “I would rather play without pads than make Mira bargain on the street for playoff tickets. Scalpers cause her panic attacks.”

“I understand. Mira needs to see you play. Even if you stay on the bench she needs to see it. Saku and I flew our mother in to watch the first NHL game we both played in.” Koivu rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had developed a decent playoffs beard, something most of the Wild had yet to accomplish. “If I had control of my suite tonight I would insist Mira sit there.”

“I appreciate it,” Noora said. Koivu clapped a hand onto Noora’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Go shower and change,” he said. “I will find a solution.”

Noora didn’t know if she believed him, but she would always put her faith in her captain. So she did as Koivu said, emerging from the locker room in clean clothes and her damp hair down. She hoped it would air dry before she had to put it back in a bun for the game. She found Koivu and Bäckström waiting for her.

“Noora Räty! How is the best goalie in the world?” Bäckström greeted her, flinging his arms open.

“Backy!” Noora laughed. She quickly stepped forward to accept the offered hug. It was a big, almost crushingly tight bear hug. Bäckström’s beard rubbed uncomfortably against Noora’s forehead. He was too hurt to play, but the Wild’s former starting goalie was growing a playoffs beard in solidarity. When she was done with the hug Noora patted Bäckström on the side to make him let go.

“I am so proud of you,” Bäckström said, beaming down at Noora. “There is not a better goalie to take my place nor one half as deserving.”

“It’s only one game, but I am pleased you approve,” Noora said, fighting off a blush. Bäckström had taken Noora under his wing when she first joined the Minnesota Gophers. They spent a lot of time doing goalie things together when their schedules matched up during Noora’s university years. The Swedish-speaking Finn had absolute confidence that Noora would develop into the best goalie in the world if she hadn’t already. She had received a level of support and encouragement from the NHL goalie that she had never expected to find outside of her personal trainers and Bäckström understood the struggle of being a Finn in America. They were close.

“Koivu told me of your dilemma,” Bäckström said. “You should have come to me when you needed a place for the game. I am insulted you did not.”

“I’m sorry, I would have, but we decided to stay in and watch the game from home,” Noora said. “At least until I got the call up. Now I don’t know where to put Mira.”

“Your Mira will sit with my Heidi and me in our suite,” Bäckström said firmly. “I may share this suite with Mikko and Nick, but tonight it is mine and I say Wild family will sit with Wild family.”

"Thank you," Noora said, genuinely touched. "I'll tell Mira as soon as I see her. This means a lot to both of us, Backy."

Bäckström always went above and beyond the call of duty. Not just for Noora, but for the entire Wild team. Bäckström had spent most of the season driving Kuemper around the city and helping him out with anything else. He was a friendly face and a sympathetic ear to anyone's problems, even when his own were pretty serious. Now he was giving Noora a seat for Mira and that meant more to her than all the training and advice he had given over the years. Backy was the best.

"Oh, one more thing, Noora, happy birthday," Bäckström said. He leaned down and kissed Noora on the temple. "Good luck out there tonight."

Bäckström grinned once more at Noora, clapped Koivu on the shoulder, and walked away. Noora quietly thanked Koivu, which he waved off. Finns help Finns, especially when it is well within their ability to do so. Koivu also wished Noora a good birthday then escorted her back to Mira. She was talking to Russo, beat reporter for the Wild, but stopped to link hands with Noora when she arrived. Koivu nodded to Russo, got a nod in return, then greeted Mira with a smile and a wave before walking away. Russo offered to buy the women lunch in exchange for a short interview. Noora looked to Mira, who just smiled and shrugged. So Noora agreed.

They went to Cossetta’s on West Seventh. It was mostly chosen because it was close, but also because it was affordable and had great pizza. They saw a few Wild jerseys in the restaurant, but it was still hours away from the game. They sat on a second floor balcony, which thanks to the weather was rather nice and quiet. Perfect for interviews. Russo let them eat for a little while before he started his questions. They were pretty boring and basic for the most part. It was obvious Russo was compiling basic information to introduce Noora to Wild fans who were uninterested in women’s hockey. Then he wanted Noora to compare men’s hockey to women’s hockey and explain her feelings on getting the call up to play for the Wild. That was a little more fun for her, but the best question was the last one Russo asked.

“Do you have anything else to ask Noora?” Mira asked. Everyone had finished eating several questions ago. As Russo hadn’t been interviewing her, Noora imagined Mira was rather bored and want to end things. Noora was more than happy to comply.

“Just one more,” Russo said. “Since your contract was announced late this morning, the Hockey Lodge has been flooded with orders for custom Räty Wild jerseys. What’s your reaction to this sudden surge in popularity?”

“Really? Are they spelling my name with the umlaut?” Noora asked, laughing. Russo looked at his notes.

“I believe so,” he said.

“Fantastic. I… am honored and gratified to hear that there are so many people pleased to have me on the Minnesota Wild, even if it is only for one game. With this outpouring of love and support I could not imagine a better twenty-fifth birthday,” Noora said. She took Mira’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “When I announced my retirement from women’s hockey three months ago I had no idea how many good things were in store for me. I have never been happier.”

“If the store is selling Räty 41 jerseys I think I would like to get one,” Mira said quietly. “I cannot think of a better way to show my love and support for my favorite hockey player in the world.”

“If it will make you happy I will buy you one,” Noora announced. She rose to her feet then offered Mira a hand up. “But only if they have the umlaut.”

“Of course. It would not be a Räty jersey without the umlaut,” Mira said in mock seriousness. They both knew Noora and everyone else would gladly wear Räty 41 jerseys even without the umlaut if it meant Noora got to play for the Wild. Still, it was always nice to see her named spelled correctly.

They bid farewell to Russo before walking back to the Xcel Center. That was where the main Hockey Lodge was located. When they entered the shop they found the staff in a frenzy, but the area was devoid of customers. They were busy because the store tent for the pregame party was about to open. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to Noora, they had a store tent for all the other home playoff games, but it still caught her off guard. The Finns stood in the shop watching the rush and discussing jersey designs for a minute before a fellow with a beard approached them and asked if they needed assistance.

“We’d like to get a Räty jersey for her before the game if possible,” Noora said, jerking her head at Mira as she talked. “We heard from Russo that you were selling them.”

“We are, but there aren’t any ready yet,” the shopkeeper said. “Raty was a surprise addition to the team and the demand is way out of line with our supplies. I can sell you a blank jersey and then we can get it customized at a later date, but that’s the best I can offer you.”

“It’s Räty,” Noora said quietly. She couldn’t bully this man into selling her a jersey. He didn’t have any and they were too busy to make one on the spot. All she could do was correct his pronunciation of her name. It seemed the hockey gods didn’t want to include Mira in Noora’s special day.

“Come on Noora, we can get a jersey some other time,” Mira said. She wrapped an arm around the shorter girl’s waist as if she planned to steer her out.

“Wait a minute, you’re Noora Räty,” he said in shock. This time he got Noora’s name right. “I totally didn’t recognize you with your hair down. You were amazing as a Gopher.”

“Thank you,” Noora said with a nod.

He glanced between the two women. “You’re Mira Jalosuo, Noora’s main defenseman,” he said, which earned him another nod. That wasn’t the best description of their relationship, but it would do. “Okay, I wasn’t kidding when I said we’ve been swamped with jersey orders, we were up to eighty when I last checked, and we’re already busy with game day stuff, but I think I can help you out. We have a spare nameplate made up from making your jersey this afternoon, I can stitch that onto a jersey right now.”

They quickly reached an agreement. Noora still had to pay full price for a customized jersey and she also had to sign a dozen Wild pucks for the store, but the clerk was right now putting together Mira’s Räty jersey. Having it ready for Mira before the game was well worth the expense. The goalie stood there scribbling her signature onto the pucks.

“I’m sorry you have to do this,” Mira whispered. “You shouldn’t be buying me presents on your birthday.”

“Seeing you wear my name is worth it,” Noora said.

The clerk came back with Mira’s jersey. She pulled it on while the goalie paid. Noora had to admire how nice the forest green and cream accenting looked on the tall Finn. The colors looked like they had been picked out specifically for her. Mira turned around to display the custom stitching. Noora felt a surge of emotion at the sight of ‘Räty 41’ across Mira’s back. She was so happy they hadn’t gone to LA for her birthday. Without another word they left the store.

Noora was late to the team dinner. Her hair was a mess and everyone stared as she took her place between Bryzgalov and Coyle at the table. Heatley shot her a knowing look, which she ignored. She felt too good to be bothered by teasing. She was the Wild’s back up goalie tonight. 

Dinner itself was a pretty quiet affair. As they were about to play an elimination game in the playoffs, everyone was more focused on that than their meals. Bryzgalov was the only player making conversation. He engaged Noora in a pleasant discussion about terraforming Mars, although it might have actually been about women. One could never tell with Bryzgalov.

That evening Noora changed with the team. It wasn’t any different from changing with the Gophers or any of the other Women’s teams she had served on. She had an official Wild jersey, but the rest of the gear was hers. If she wasn’t a last minute replacement they would have issued her a full set of properly sized uniform gear, but as things stood she wore her own. It was just as well. If they wanted her to play she needed properly fitting gear. Spurgeon was the smallest player on the team and Noora would be swimming in any of his spare gear. She didn’t even want to think about how bad a fit any of the spare goalie equipment would be. Noora was relieved to find that the one piece of Wild gear she had to wear fit perfectly. The green sweater looked like it had been stitched specifically for her. She looked like she was meant to be on the Wild.

The last thing Noora did before putting on her gloves was take the gold ring off her left hand. She couldn’t keep it on during the game; it was a safety hazard. So she pulled out the silver chain she had gotten specifically to carry the band and linked the two together. Noora looked up after she put the necklace on to see Spurgeon smirking at her. She glared at him. It wasn’t any of his business what she did with her ring as long as she wasn’t breaking any NHL guidelines. The smirk softened into a smile as Spurgeon fished his own necklace out of his jersey. Dangling from the end of a leather cord was his own wedding band. Noora’s glare faded into a grin as they both tucked their rings away.

Yeo and Koivu talked to the team. They said inspiring things, but mostly just reminded everyone to play their best. This was the farthest the team had ever gotten in the playoffs. The only other time they had ever made it to the Western Conference Finals was in 2003 during their first playoffs run when the Ducks swept them 4-0. They had already made history this year. Noora just hoped they could make more.

She pulled her helmet on right before taking to the ice for warm ups. It had been a hard choice that morning, whether she wanted her Gopher or Sochi helmet for tonight’s game, both were appropriate for the Minnesota Wild, but in the end she chose the Gophers. Noora’s connection to Minnesota and the Wild was through the Gophers. It was only fitting she wear that helmet. Also, when she wore her Gophers Women’s Hockey helmet that night Noora represented all the women who wanted to skate where she was right now.

Noora spent most of warmups stretching near center ice. Bryzgalov was beside her for a lot of it making funny faces at her through his mask. She laughed at him a lot. It was a shame she hadn’t gotten to know him better. The Russian was a great guy. After Bryzgalov finished warming up Noora skated over to the crease. The guys were done practicing shots and she knew she had to head back to the bench, but Noora wanted a moment in net while the stands were full at the Xcel Energy Center right before a playoff game. For just a second Noora imagined she was the Wild’s starting goalie during their best playoffs run ever. Then she got off the ice.

When she got back to the bench Noora pulled off her helmet. Like all goalie helmets it was large and bulky, cutting off her peripheral vision along with slightly distorting her view, and if she was on the bench Noora didn’t want to bother with it. She stumbled when something landed on her head and briefly blocked her field of vision. When Noora pulled it off her head she found herself in possession of a green Wild playoffs hat. It took her a moment to realize that Bryzgalov was patting her on the head.

“A certain captain said you had no hat,” Bryzgalov said. “Here is my second hat. Not worn. It is big because I have a big head, but you have big hair, yes? It fits.”

Noora put the hat back on and adjusted it. He was right, the hat was absurdly large, but it more or less fit with her hair pulled back into a bun for the game. If she put her hair down she wouldn’t be able to see in this hat. This was a kind gesture on Bryzgalov’s part. She thanked him.

“We get victory shots after game,” Bryzgalov laughed. He patted her on the shoulder. “Whole team celebration. Birthday shots.” Noora agreed. If the Wild won she would happily drink with Bryz.

The game started snappily enough. Bryzgalov fended off four shots just over the first minute from the combined efforts of Carter, Pearson, and Toffoli. Then Haula caught the puck and got it out of the Wild’s zone. Niederreiter made a quick shot on goal, but Quick caught it out of the air. Unlike the Wild—who had suited up eight different goalies including Noora this season, five of who had actually played—the LA Kings had a reliable starting goaltender in Quick. He was fast, acrobatic, had yet to break, and was a large chunk of the reason the Kings had made it so far. Like the Wild, the Kings had taken seven games a piece to beat their opponents in the first and second rounds. It seemed likely round 3 would also be dragged out to seven games. Unless the Wild lost tonight—then it would be all over in six.

Noora shifted in place on the bench. As the back up she sat a bit off to the side out of the way of the rapidly rotating skaters as they moved down the bench in preparation for their return to the ice. From her position on the bench right at center ice she had the best view of the game in the entire arena, but Noora would kill to not just be a spectator. She liked Bryzgalov and would never wish harm on any member of the Wild, but the Finn was used to being the starting goalie. She had been the starting goaltender all four years with the Minnesota Gophers and in the last two Winter Olympics. Sitting on the bench had become surprisingly uncomfortable to her and Noora could feel her muscles twitch every time there was a shot on goal as if they were telling her how they’d stop the puck. She might have been a bit shaky during practice today, but she was game ready now. 

The first period ended scoreless. Shots had been in Minnesota’s favor, 13-10, but like most of the Wild’s home games this playoffs run that meant they couldn’t find the back of the net even on a 5-on-3 power play. That actually happened near the end of the first period. Kopitar took a hooking penalty, which was followed by a slashing penalty on Voynov twelve seconds later. It was annoying seeing neither the first or second line able to capitalize on the Kings’ errors. That was mostly thanks to Quick, but Noora was certain Pominville was playing hurt. Coyle too, but she had gathered that from how the Bostonian acted off the ice. Everyone played injured during the playoffs.

Three minutes into the second period King slipped the puck past Bryzgalov on an assist by Richards. This happened right after the Wild had successfully killed a penalty Stoner received for—and Noora could think of no better way of describing his behavior—being stupid. The crowd was not happy with this turn of events, but they continued to stay noisily supportive of the Wild. That was unusual behavior practically unheard of in the Xcel Center before this playoffs run. Noora had been to more games where she could hear the unhappy coaching staff talking to the bench from her spot in the upper levels than cheering crowds.

The cheers turned into roars when Parise tied the game. The left-winger caught the puck from Suter after it had been passed back by Granlund to avoid Brown. Seeing an opening he shot it through Quick’s five-hole just before the midway point of the game. Granlund and Pominville both hugged the alternate captain before he flew by the bench. Noora was thrilled to participate in the team high five. Parise still looked pleased as he stepped off the ice on the next line change. There was more than enough time for the Wild to take control of the game and score more goals.

This is exactly what they did, well, except for the scoring part. For the next eight minutes of the game the Wild kept the puck in the Kings’ zone, except for one attempt by the Kings’ second line and two icings. It was only a matter of time before one of those shots bypassed Quick’s defenses again, though at the moment it appeared that Quick had made a deal with the devil. Noora would put money down on Niederreiter breaking the tie. He had been robbed at least twice on perfect shots by Quick. She hated to admit it, but she was enjoying the skill of the Kings’ goaltending. It was impressive, even if she did want Quick to crash and burn.

Minnesota’s dominance ended when Brodziak took a penalty for roughing. This was the first break in the Wild onslaught since the tying goal and the Kings took their chance. Gaborik raced up the right side, only passing when Scandella smashed him into the boards. Carter caught it, realized he couldn’t get through both Brodin and Coyle, and passed it back to Doughty. The Kings’ defenseman seemed to have no such qualms about the Wild players because he made a beeline straight toward the net. He was probably frustrated and overeager to score, which is why Koivu was able to zip in and steal the puck.

That was when things got nasty. Instead of doing an about face and chasing after Koivu as the Wild captain flew down the ice Doughty continued his original course. He picked up as much speed as he could with three swift kicks before crashing into Bryzgalov in the middle of his crease. Bryzgalov landed on his back with an audible thud. A split second later there was another one as Doughty landed on top of him, slamming the goalie’s helmet into the ice. They slid backwards into the net, knocking it off its moorings. It took about two seconds from the initial collision for the Wild to realize what Doughty had done. Koivu abandoned the puck at the blue line to charge the Wild’s net the same instant the Wild’s bench swarmed the ice.

Noora stayed on the bench as the carnage unfolded. She was so much smaller than the other players and didn’t have the experience to make a positive impact on the fight. Women’s hockey didn’t allow checking, much less fighting. She would only be a hindrance on the ice at this point. Quick and Jones also stayed out of the scrum. It was too easy for a goalie to break in a fight and since they were essential to the team’s defensive abilities they usually avoided it when they could. What worried Noora the most about this particular fight was that Bryzgalov hadn’t moved since Scandella and Brodin pulled Doughty off him. Well, perhaps he had moved a little, she couldn’t see through all the players, but Bryzgalov hadn’t gotten to his feet. Noora felt a lump of ice in her stomach. She had wanted to play, but not at the cost of Bryzgalov’s safety.

It took all four officials physically intervening and the Wild’s staff yelling that Bryzgalov needed medical attention to pry the team off Doughty. He was badly bloodied, but the Kings’ defenseman was able to skate off the ice under his own power. Bryzgalov had to be carried. Noora got a good look at the goalie as he passed. His face was pale and he was obviously in pain. Bryzgalov let out a soft moan as he tried to smile. Noora was certain he wasn’t focusing on her or anyone else. She gave his glove a quick squeeze before he was gone. Noora would protect the net for him.

The game halted while the ice crew cleaned the rink. There was a lot of blood near the crease. While the crew cared for the ice the officials discussed punishment. Koivu and Suter were livid as they argued with the referees and Yeo looked more like a super villain than usual. Brown, the Kings’ captain, and Sutter, their coach, were also with the officials. Parise stayed with the team in an attempt to make certain they didn’t get off the bench again. Both teams looked like powder kegs in the vicinity of a lit match. In the end the Kings were given a five minute major and Doughty was suspended from the game. With his injuries Noora doubted he would have been back to play in any case. No other penalties were handed out.

Noora took off Bryzgalov’s playoffs hat and picked up her helmet. With a deep breath she put it on and firmly secured it. When the team was allowed back onto the ice Noora joined them, making history as the first female player in an NHL playoffs game, goalie or otherwise. She could feel that the crowd was unhappy with her in net and quickly blocked them out. Noora wasn’t playing for the fans; she was playing for herself and, most importantly, the Wild. Noora would keep all the pucks out of her net for the next twenty-one and thirty-eight seconds. If they couldn’t end things in regulation Noora would do her job through every overtime period until the rest of the Wild did theirs. She would manage this because now Noora wasn’t just Noora Räty; Noora represented every female hockey player ever who had wanted to play for the NHL. Failure was unacceptable.

As expected the Wild fell apart with a new goalie in net. Whatever pressure the forwards had amassed just dissipated and the defensive pairing of Stoner and Prosser acted as halfway competent screens for the Kings. In that last 1:38 of the second period Noora fended off three shots from the Kings and was almost run over by her own teammate when she had to cover a puck. She didn’t know who it was, but Noora suspected Heatley or McCormick based on who was on the ice at the time.

Yeo was not thrilled by the team’s attitude when the second intermission started. The general air in the locker room was that they were already done for and defeat was inevitable. Even the captains seemed a bit lethargic and Noora knew Koivu trusted her. He was probably worried about Bryzgalov. Yeo demanded to know what happened to their defense, to their plan to always put defense first. He also wanted them to find their presence and aggression. The Minnesota Wild hadn’t made it to round 3, game 6 by being mild pussycats.

“What do we have to do to get that winning confidence back?” Yeo demanded. “This is not the time to stall out.”

“It would help if when we looked back at our goal we could see the goalie. I feel like I’m playing with an empty net,” Cooke said. He gave Noora a small smile. “No offense Räty, but I like being able to see my goalie doing his job. Means I can focus on mine.”

Noora bit the inside of her cheeks, but she said nothing. It was true she was at least half a foot shorter than the next shortest goalie that had played for the Wild this season. Kuemper was a foot taller than she was. Maybe that caused some of the players’ anxiety, but she was there and she was doing her job. If they knew anything about her they should know that. Noora didn’t need to open her mouth to defend herself; her record spoke just fine on its own. Anything she had to add would just cause resentment in her team. She would focus on her job and they could focus on theirs.

“I can assure you that Noora is doing her job even if you have to look down to see her. I will make certain everyone knows the moment she’s not in net. In the meantime focus on your own game, Cookie,” Yeo said, voicing Noora’s thoughts.

A murmur ran through the team. Everything Yeo had said was right and they were trying to blame their performance on Noora. It wasn’t her fault they were rattled and it wasn’t fair to blame her for their failings. They had to trust their goalie.

“I understand you may not be comfortable playing with Noora. You’ve had less than a day’s practice with her,” Yeo said. “But Räty is one of the best goalies in the world. We are lucky to have her on our team. She is athletic, skilled, and has great reflexes, just like Josh. Pretend there is a tiny aggressive Harding in net and you will be able to play with Noora just fine.”

Yeo didn’t have much else to say to the team. Everyone buckled down and prepared for another twenty minutes of play. Noora double-checked her gear to make certain it was serviceable and drank some water. Then she stood at her stall until it was time to head out for the third period. She had already had enough sitting during the game.

The Wild were still a mess at the start of the third period, but they were getting better. Noora thought that perhaps the fact she actively stepped out of the crease to stop the puck, and then passed it to Haula, near the beginning of the period had something to do with it. If being visibly aggressive restored the team’s confidence so that they could win Noora would be visibly aggressive. While for this particular game Noora refused to let any pucks in, her usual mantra was that as long as the team won she didn’t care how many pucks got past her. She’d happily play that way if it got the Wild to score and win.

Fending off the Kings wasn’t that difficult. Yes, the shots were harder and more powerful than women’s shots, but Noora had faced shots like this before. The main issue was speed. If all three forwards were buzzing around her and quickly regaining possession of the puck she had an interesting time in net. Otherwise it was nothing out of the ordinary. NHL hockey was more direct than Noora was used to. The Kings didn’t bother with fancy redirects or deflections and even their best rebound control—which Suter began shutting down halfway through the period—was a pale imitation of what Noora faced for the Gophers. It turned out men just weren’t that inventive in their shooting strategies because they had never needed to be. Noora enjoyed the novelty of the game and the chance to improve her response time. The men telegraphed their movements so obviously she had almost too much time to get into position. That had led to a couple of close saves where Noora had already read and reacted to a play before it had been made, which allowed the skater to change his shot and she had to scramble for the save. Those had been exciting.

Noora was shocked when the end of third period buzzer sounded. It was so unexpected she jumped into the net and looked around for the goal. Twenty minutes of game play had passed unexpectedly quickly. When she made it back to the bench Noora found out she had stopped 18 shots to Quick’s 8. At least she had shown the Wild she could defend the net. They would be going to sudden death overtime.

Yeo’s words during the second intermission seemed to have taken hold during the third because the Wild were finally acting like they were playing hockey again at the beginning of overtime. Noora actually got a bit of a break. For the first time since Bryzgalov was hurt she noticed the crowd’s cheers. They were on their feet clapping and shouting in unison. Maybe that was part of the reason the Wild got their act together. Then of course the goalie saw a puck flying at her head and any thoughts on what made the Wild play well scattered.

She easily caught the puck and dropped it to her stick as she waited for the defense to arrive. It had been a shot from the center line. She passed it to Brodin, who arrived first, and he carried it away from the crease. Brodin kept the puck in the Wild’s zone until after the line change and then passed it to Coyle. He carried it up the side until two Kings players smashed into him, which caused the puck to slide around the edge of the rink. Niederreiter and Greene caught up to it on the other side of the net. There was a struggle for the puck and then Niederreiter hit it off the wall. Koivu caught it and passed it to Coyle, who moved to the face off circle for a shot, but found the passage too well blocked. He passed it back to Koivu, who passed it to Niederreiter, who shot. Puck bounced off Quick, but Koivu caught the rebound and scored! It was a fast short hit that brushed Quick’s elbow before hitting the post and bouncing into the net. Koivu glided away from the net as the crowd went wild, as if they hadn’t already been Wild.

Niederreiter and Coyle were the first to give Koivu celebratory hugs. Noora had some water as she watched the rest of the team mob their captain. She was delighted for them and thrilled she got to help the Wild win their game. There would be a seventh game in LA after all. This was the best way imaginable to spend her birthday, but Noora couldn’t help feeling a little sad. Her NHL career was over, at least for now as it was only a single game tryout. Noora wanted to celebrate with the rest of the team, but she didn’t know if they would let her. Noora wasn’t really a member of the Wild.

Noora left the net for one last loop before heading to the bench. She just wanted to extend her NHL experience a few more seconds before admitting it was over. She turned around a bit sharper than usual and found herself colliding with Koivu. The captain of the Wild slipped his gloves under Noora’s arms and hoisted her up into a hug. A moment later Noora could feel the rest of the team patting her head, shoulders and back.

“Thank you, Räty, for continuing to play when we did not,” Koivu said in Finnish. His voice was thick with emotion and Noora realized this was the farthest Koivu had ever gotten in the playoffs. Koivu had only ever played for the Wild. She just grinned at him and patted his helmet.

Noora wasn’t allowed to skate off the ice. Instead when Koivu went to put Noora down Niederreiter, Granlund, and Haula caught her before Noora’s skates could touch the ice. They lifted her into the air then placed her on Scandella’s back. Brodin grabbed Noora’s stick as Scandella began skating back toward the bench, his arms wrapped around her legs to keep her from falling. Noora would have been annoyed by the treatment, but she could see how overjoyed everyone was about their tiny new goalie. Noora was thrilled to be their tiny goalie.

It was a celebratory mood in the Wild locker room. The guys were already crowing about beating the Kings in LA and moving on to the Stanley Cup finals. If they could beat the Kings in LA one more time—which was possible, they had beaten them in LA once before losing at home—it was going to be an exciting play for the Cup. Noora wanted to help the Wild win that Cup.

Noora’s eyes drifted around the room until they landed on Bryzgalov’s empty berth. Her glowing victory feelings diminished and she could feel a cold pit in her stomach again. No one else seemed to notice his absence. That was wrong. She caught Yeo’s eye.

“Is there any word on Bryz?” Noora asked loudly. The room quieted, waiting for Yeo’s response.

“Bryz’s playing season is over,” Yeo said somberly, “but the doctors say he should make a full recovery.”

Noora sighed in relief and looked down. It was good to hear the eccentric Russian would be okay. Noora missed the look between Yeo and the captains.

“Curry’s slip this morning was a bad one,” Parise said. “Darcy can probably play Saturday, but now Bryz is out and Backy can’t play. Any chance on Hards?”

“No,” Suter said, shaking his head. “Harding is up and he’s getting better, but he’s not ready to play a full game.”

“Noora, I want you starting in Saturday’s game,” Yeo said. “Fletcher has already called your agent and they should have a contract for the rest of our playoffs run hammered out before we have to catch our plane tomorrow morning.”

“You cannot be serious,” Noora said. “This has to be some sort of cruel joke.” She looked to Koivu, who was grinning. Most of the team was looking at her expectantly.

“I actually put in an order for team gear in your size the moment I heard you had signed,” Yeo said. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It seemed prudent considering our goalie luck these days. We can’t seem to keep more than one goaltender healthy at a time.”

“You already proved you can play with this team,” Koivu said. “I would like to see you stay with this team. We know you belong with the team. You are Wild, Noora Räty.”

Noora grinned from ear to ear as she looked around at her teammates. She had always dreamed of this happening. Noora was going to be on the Minnesota Wild. Not just at a practice, or training camp, or a tryout. Noora Räty was not a publicity stunt or a back up; she was the starting goalie in the tail end of a NHL playoffs run for the Stanley Cup. She felt exuberant. She was going to win the Cup with her team.

“Yes, I would love nothing better than to play with this team,” Noora laughed. “But someone else has to tell Mira why I can’t attend my own birthday party on Saturday.” Everyone laughed as half a dozen hands shot up offering to take care of that job. Noora continued to grin when Koivu and Granlund wrapped their arms around her. This was the best birthday ever.


End file.
